


Ignite

by Royal_Wreck



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Multi, Post-War, War, eighth year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Wreck/pseuds/Royal_Wreck





	1. Prologue

Of all the things Harry Potter had done, he was finding walking into Hogwarts again the most difficult.

There was something surreal about being back at the old castle. Maybe it was the images of war that lingered in every corner, or the way everything seemed relatively unchanged. Whatever it was, Harry couldn't help but be taken over by a sense of insufferable gloom.

It hung like a cloud over the returning students, bleeding into their lungs and suffocating them. Meanwhile first years bustled hurriedly into the castle gates, weaving past one another, tripping over cloaks and stones and occasionally another person. Every word they uttered was matched with a smile or a laugh that echoed out. 

They shone like polished gems, new and well sheltered, and once they had disappeared far into the mist, the second years followed. Then the third, the fourth and so on, until eventually, only a dozen students remained.

These were the eighth years. The ones who had fought and survived and now returned for more. If their younger classmates had felt a cloud of gloom, these students were experiencing a storm. They stood static, with wide eyes and trembling hands, staring at the building that had once been their home, and was now their nightmare.

Harry turned to look at them, and they stared right back, daring him to speak. Daring him to utter a word. A single message seemed to radiate from their stiff forms: We are not your soldiers anymore. Each of them had fought in the war, perhaps not on the same side, but they had fought. They all knew pain, loss and fear. No longer could they not relate to The Boy Who Lived.

From their midst stepped forward a tall freckled boy and a curly-haired girl. Both were thin and sickly looking, but stood with heads held high and tightly curled fists. They laced hands and faced towards Harry proudly.

Others slowly began to join them. At first a few Gryffindors, then Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Finally, a few reluctant Slytherins stepped forward.

Not all of them held hands. In fact, most of them didn't. Most stood with hunched shoulders and hanging heads. They pulled sleeves down to cover bruises and battle scars and flinched whenever somebody touched them. But they still stood, and that was what counted.

Harry felt something swell in him. Pain, pride, or pressure, he didn't know. Whichever it was, it moved him to walk and stand amongst his classmates.

And, together, they moved forward. 

In that moment, all was forgiven- or at least forgotten. Their footsteps, heavy as their hearts, echoed loudly across the great hall, silencing the other students in their wake. In that moment, there were no death eaters and no saviors. They were nothing but scared kids fighting to find strength in one another. In that moment, they were one. The only battle lines that had been drawn were in their own minds.

Once, they'd been bumbling children, struggling to contain their excitement. Now, they held back tears and tried in vain to ignore muffled screams ringing through their memories. 

Beliefs and grief clashed together, sparking painfully. The embers of the last war still burned, searing their minds and hearts. Unfortunately for them, it wouldn't be long before a new fire would ignite.


	2. Forward

A B O U T

'Ignite' is a post-Deathly Hallows AU in which the characters are permitted to return to Hogwarts for an eighth year.

As this is a fanfiction, some canonical elements from the original stories have been changed, however, most things are the same. Due to this, unless an original element of the stories is explicitly shown as changed, it is safe to assume that that thing is the same. 

'Ignite' is not affiliated with any other Harry Potter stories I may have, and does not impact them or vice versa. 

Unless it is stated in the description to be part of the series, all my stories should be read separate from each other.

If you see any mistakes, please tell me. I promise I won't become defensive. I really enjoy your guy's feedback and any chance for me to improve my writing is something I love. Thank you.

___________________

S Y N O P S I S

Harry wasn't sure if things were worse or better. On one hand, the war had ended. But on the other, it seemed that fear and paranoia were at an all time high. Every wizard lived in an anxious state of distrust, and at least once a week, there was a new story about somebody spotting Voldemort. 

Smoke follows fire, but it precedes it as well. Knowing this, how was Harry to tell if the fumes choking the wizarding world were just the remains from one war, or a warning of the next?

 

___________________

 

D I S C L A I M E R

Harry Potter characters and references are not mine and are owned by JK Rowling.

___________________

 

W A R N I N G

Dark themes

Harry Potter spoilers

Swearing

Character deaths

Implied sexual themes

___________________

 

P L A Y L I S T

(A new song will be added with the addition of each chapter starting with the prologue. With the exception of the prologue, each song will be stated at the very top. A full list will be updated below)

P. "Mars" ~ Sleeping at Last  
01\. "Bridges" ~ Broods  
02\. "World on fire" ~ Olivver the Kid  
___________________

 

S T A T U S

Writing: In progress

Editing: In progress

Updates: Sunday

Word Count (so far): 6,086


	3. |01.

I G N I T E  
Chapter 01  
.  
"Bridges" ~ Broods  
______________

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, head in his hand, and poked uncomfortably at the eggs in front of him. He wasn't hungry to begin with, and it didn't help his appetite to find the younger students goggling at him from the other end of the long table. 

Their eyes met his, and he watched as first years immediately turned away and began whispering amongst themselves. A few of the older students gave a small wave before returning to their meals.

"Don't worry about them mate," said Ron, his voice slightly muffled by a mouthful of toast. "They're just curious, that's all."

Hermione nodded, "Likely excited about their first year at Hogwarts as well. I can hardly blame them, it's our eighth year, and I'm still rather anxious."

Harry offered a half-hearted smile, pulling at the sleeves of his robes. He doubted they were just excited, but accepted the idea for the sake of avoiding conflict. 

Before he could turn back to his food and thoughts, Ron spoke again. "Yeah. I wonder who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is."

"We'll be finding out soon," said Hermione, pulling a sheet of parchment from her bag, "Gryffindors have got it this morning."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise. He looked over Hermione's shoulder at the parchment. "With Slytherin?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows, "Can't we have one bloody year without them?"

"I highly doubt that, considering they make up a fourth of the school," Hermione commented shortly, folding the parchment and placing it in her bag. "Besides, what would we accomplish by avoiding all of them?"

"Exactly that," Ron murmured, shoving another slice of toast in his mouth.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Well I for one see no point in it."

Ron shot Harry a look of disbelief and placed a napkin onto his own plate. He seemed to think for a moment, and then said, "Harry, fancy a visit to Hagrid's hut?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione beat him to it. "That sounds lovely, I've missed Hagrid. Why don't we stop by after class?"

Ron tried to catch Harry's eye again, but he was busy looking elsewhere. 

At the door of the great hall, among a group of other seventh years, stood a familiar girl. Her firey hair stood out brilliantly among the crowd as she scanned the great hall.

"...Harry? Hello?" 

His eyes flickered briefly to Hermione. "Merlin Harry, you're always zoning out. You really should sleep more, you know. Anyway, tell Ron that that's a terrible idea."

"What is?" asked Harry uninterestedly. From across the hall, Ginny caught his eye and began marching toward him.

"I said-" Ron began.

"-He seems to think it's a brilliant idea to visit Hagrid immediately," Hermione said, cutting off Ron.

"Oi!" 

"Why exactly is that a bad idea?" Harry asked, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Because we have class," Hermione explained exasperatedly. "Honestly, am I the only one who remembers that we came here to learn?"

"Yes," the boys replied in unison.

Ginny got closer and Harry turned to Ron. "I think it's a good idea. It's been awhile since we've been down there."

"You can't be serious Harry! What about Defense Against the Dark Arts? We've got to be there in ten minutes!" 

Harry firmly ignored her and stood up as Ginny made it to the table. Ron followed suit and said, "Honestly 'Mione, we've got all year to go to class, I doubt the first one will be all that important."

"Harry," said Ginny, "how ar-"

"Busy," he quickly interrupted, immediately feeling guilty, "C'mon Ron, let's go."

The boys started to walk away, but paused as dozens of owls flooded the great hall. Two papers were dropped into the hands of Ginny and Hermione, and their expressions changed, becoming suddenly solemn. Another one was given to Ron, and Harry watched as it crumpled, clasped tightly in his fist. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Harry was already walking away.

______________

Draco sat staring down at the paper as the entire dinning hall seemed to fall silent. 

 Another tribute to the dead.

One set of footsteps echoed loudly throughout the hall, slowly fading away until the room was dissolved in silence. After a few moments, another set of footsteps could be heard running after the first. The Great Hall began to buzz with student chatter.

"God," began Theodore Nott, yanking the paper away from Draco and scanning it quickly. "I fucking hate these things."

Pansy raised an eyebrow and swallowed her food. Her features were situated in such a way that Draco recognized her restrained silence. Apparently, Theo noticed as well.

"What?" Theo asked, "Do you disagree?"

She nodded and sipped her tea. "Don't you want to honor our saviors?" Pansy asked in a sarcastic manner, placing her mug softly on the table. "Don't you want to remember the poor, tragic, heroes who gave their lives for ours?"

Draco felt a small tick of irritation. They used to talk like this constantly, but now was different. After everything that had happened, how could Pansy speak with such little tact? Especially in public.

Draco shot her a look. "Shut up, will you?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Right I forgot, you've got a reputation to uphold with daddy gone, don't you Mr. Malfoy?"

He opened his mouth to snap back, but Blaise quickly interjected. 

"What point do these even serve?" he asked, neatly folding the prophet and placing it in his bag. "It's not like Fred Weasley is gaining anything from this."

"It's called guilt, Blaise, sweetheart," Pansy said, sipping her tea. "They publish these stupid articles to help themselves feel better about their pathetic lives. I suppose it makes them think they're actually doing something helpful."

Theo snorted. "They're doing something alright, but it's far from helpful."

"What do you mean?" asked Draco.

"Did you not see Potter and Weasel storm out just now?" Pansy asked in disbelief. "I'd of thought you would be the first to notice."

Draco raised his eyebrows and Pansy just shrugged. "Anyway, point is that these articles just depress people. I'm honestly surprised Weaslette is holding it together over there."

She cocked her chin towards the Gryffindor table and Draco turned to look. Across the hall, Ginny Weasley sat rigid, staring at the paper with wide eyes. She seemed unable to hear as her housemates tried to talk to her.

Blaise nodded. "It's not very tactful of the ministry to send these out."

"It's fucking idiotic," snapped Theo. "Everyone's already scarred enough without the Ministry publishing shit like this and making things worse. I mean just look at this-" He pointed furiously to an ad above the article- "They're shoving sleeping droughts into sweets! Not only are they choosing to focus on dead people instead of helping ones who survived, but they're fucking monopolizing it!"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, "Theodore. Calm down."

"No, because you're not getting the point! The Prophet is spouting bullshit about caring for these people, and then, on the same page, taking advantage of them! It's sickening!"

"Says you," scoffed Blaise.

"Excuse me?"

Blaise held his hands above his head in mock surrender. "Im just playing Devil's advocate here, but you're not exactly one to judge what is 'morally correct'."

"What did I ever do? I haven't hurt anybody. My parents-"

"- Your parents supported Voldemort."

Theo's expression turned fierce. "And they're paying the price for that."

"Yes we know. But the point is that you-"

"I am not my parents," Theo said glowering at him. "I never supported him! I never took the damn mark! I'm not a fucking Death eater, Blaise!"

Draco stiffened slightly and placed his fork on the table. His arm seemed to burn uncomfortably, and he quietly pulled at the sleeve of his robes.

Theo continued to glare as Blaise tried to calm him. Pansy placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Dray?"

Her voice, though low, caught the others attention. Theo's eyes widened as he seemingly realized his words. "Draco, no, that's not what I meant. Your situation...well you're...you're different!"

Draco pushed Pansy's hand away and stood up, "Let's get to class."

______________

Harry was definitely not going to class. He didn't care about the new professor, he didn't care about the homework or the lesson or anything else. The only thing he could think about was the name that had been printed across The Prophet's front page.

Just seeing Fred Weasely's name brought forth a strange feeling that Harry was beginning to become accustomed to. He wasn't sure what it was exactly- this strange sensation that twisted his stomach and provided a mixture of panic and regret. All he knew was that how he felt now was identical to how he had when Sirius and Cedric died. It scared him a bit.

Now that he was out in the halls of Hogwarts, he really just wished he'd stayed in the Great Hall. Who was he to storm out like that? If the Weasleys were calm, what right did he have to do anything but sit silently?

That didn't mean he was going to turn back. No, he couldn't now that he'd caused such a scene. So instead, Harry found himself wandering down to the lake and laying in the grass.

It was quiet there, but the familiar sensations of barbed grass stabbing his skin and dirt against his back caused a ringing in Harry's ears. It reminded him unexplainably of that night in the forbidden forest. He could almost feel Voldemort's blood red eyes boring into his brain as he lay paralyzed and helpless. Soon, he thought, Narcissa Malfoy would approach and ask him about Draco, soon she would lie to Voldemort, and soon the real fight would begin. A hand touched Harry's shoulder and his eyes shot open in panic. 

However, the person he saw was not Narcissa. Ron Weasley sat crossed legged beside Harry, looking down at him with tired eyes. Harry dragged himself up and moved beside the red-haired boy, watching him curiously.

Ron was thinner than usual, even more than he had been in their seventh year. This would've been surprising to Harry, who spent the summer at the burrow, had they not shared a room.

He knew Ron's weight concerned Hermione, who herself had begun returning to a healthy size. She just couldn't understand why he kept getting thinner and thinner when all he did was eat.  Harry didn't tell her what he knew, because all it would do is worry her, and because Ron had asked him not to. And when your best friend is sitting weak and tired beside a toilet in which they'd just emptied the contents of their stomach, begging you not to tell anyone about their horrible night terrors, how could you refuse them?

It was truly a horrific scene. Every night Ron would thrash, yell and bang against his headboard without flinching. Every night Harry would wake him. Every night Ron rushed into the bathroom and Harry followed after him fifteen minutes later with a blanket and a glass of water. They would stay with each other until the sun rise, and then spend every day pretending like nothing had happened the previous night.

It was a toxic cycle, but Harry feared that if he were to try to fix it, he would make it worse. So he made sure they had what they would need, and he waited. It was the least he could do for the person who had always been there for him, and it was hardly any trouble. How could it be? Harry never slept at night anyways.

Thinking of all of this made him realize just how alike the situations were. Sitting next to Ron now felt awfully similar to the way they sat on the bathroom floor. It was like things had gone full circle, and Ron's nightmares had returned in real life. The only difference between now and then was that then, they sat in silence. Now, Ron spoke.

"Are you okay mate?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Harry gave him an incredulous look, "Really?"

"What?"

"You're asking how I am?" Harry said, his voice laced with an almost bitter sort of laughter.

"Well, yeah," Ron shrugged, "I figured seeing his name would upset you..."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the ground, "Yes but...Fred was your brother."

"He was yours too," said Ron softly.

Harry sighed. The nightmares were real, he reminded himself. They were real, but they had died months ago alongside Fred. All that was left is their ghost, which haunted them in the midnight hours, and was revived by gentle reminders in the light. 

Neither boy spoke again, and silence consumed them.


	4. |02.

I G N I T E  
Chapter 02  
.  
"World on fire" ~ Olivver the Kid  
______________

Draco had always had a complicated relationship with the dungeons. At times, the strange coolness in the air felt empowering. He wasn't sure how describe it in any other way. The common room wasn't a place of warmth, but rather, of competition. They were all constantly fighting to be better that the person next to them. Yet, in a weird way, it was this fighting that brought them together.

Even in their dorms, comfort was an afterthought. The most they were given for that was a thin cotton blanket and a lumpy pillow.

This discomfort, however, was perfect for studying. Cold, sharp air kept students awake and alert. The beds were just uncomfortable enough to discourage sleep.

Last night, Draco had taken advantage of the dorms, and stayed awake until the sun began to rise, working on a paper for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The paper had been a summer assignment that the eighth years weren't told about, so Professor Grenedge allowed them a four week extension, which was more time than Draco needed. Still, he'd been so wrapped up in being back at Hogwarts, that he had forgotten about it until the last possible moment. In the end, true to his nature, he got it done, and completely outdid himself as well, writing nearly twice the required amount. Now that he was awake, he regretted it entirely.

His eyes stung with every blink, and even the ratty emerald blanket draped over him felt more welcoming than sitting up.

Theo, who had decided his own paper wasn't worth writing, sat on his bed, watching Draco with amusement.

"Well, are you going to get up or not?" Blaise asked, standing at the foot of the bed and tightening the tie around his neck.

Draco scowled and squeezed his eyes shut.

"C'mon Blondie, we're all gonna miss breakfast if you don't get your ass moving," Theo said, yanking away Draco's blanket and throwing clothes at him.

Draco stood up, sighing. The obsidian tile beneath his feet felt like ice, spreading up his already cold body as he quickly dressed.

"Let's go then, you big baby," said Draco, grabbing his bag and slipping on a pair of shoes.

Blaise and Theo both stood still, watching him with surprise.

"What?"

"You're not going to do your hair?" Blaise asked in disbelief.

"Er-" Draco reached up to smooth down his hair. Without gel it was surprisingly soft- "No?"

"Well you should, because you look like someone shoved a ferret into a drier," said Theo, "But I'm hungry and at least I look stunning, so let's go."

Rolling his eyes, Draco followed behind the other two as they exited the dorms.

Almost immediately, the trio was joined by Pansy Parkinson, who took one look at Draco and burst out in laughter.

"Who mugged Ghost Boy over here?" She laughed. Ruffling Draco's hair.

As much as he wanted to be upset, he was honestly more surprised that she had reached his head without rising onto her toes. Hadn't she always been significantly shorter than him?

"Potter," responded Blaise without hesitation.

Pansy shrugged, still smiling, "Of course. Don't know what I was expecting really."

Theo laughed and wrapped an arm around Pansy's shoulders. "So dear Parkinson, tell us, what new drama has emerged in the castle while we were sleeping?"

She twisted free of his arm. "Well I heard from Emma who heard from Cho that Dean and Seamus were wandering the grounds again late last night."

"Why was Cho out?" Blaise asked.

"I mean, according to Luna who heard from..."

And that was when Draco stopped paying attention.

He tried to force himself, but all the names and places blurred in his tired mind. Instead, he watched their shadows glide over the stone floors of the castle. It occurred to him that he'd never really seen their shadows all that much before. Maybe that was because before, he never looked down. He was fully aware of the arrogant way which he used to walk around the castle with misplaced pride, holding his head high as he balanced a crown as falsified as he was. It was just one of the many things he was slowly becoming aware of, and it really was frightening.

"...I also heard that Weaslette is looking for The Savior, who nobody's seen for days now," Pansy said, passing through the doorway and into the Great Hall.

That caught Draco's attention. "Potter is missing?"

She turned to him with an amused smile, tucking the hair behind her ears. "Not missing, no. Just locked away in Gryffindor tower. Has been since they published that article on our old wolf friend and his bubblegum wife."

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Speaking of that," Theo piped, plopping down across from Draco, "have you guys cancelled your subscriptions yet?"

"No," Draco replied, "and I'm not going to."

"C'mon Blondie, why not?"

"Because, it's idiotic. You may have convinced the rest of the school to join your boycott but if nobody here is getting the papers, then we'll be completely isolated."

"Hardly a bad thing," shrugged Pansy, "not like The Prophet says anything important anymore."

Draco scoffed and pointed towards a handful of owls swooping down into the Great Hall. "Wanna bet?"

"You're on," grinned Pansy.

The pair watched as the birds flew. One headed straight towards Draco.

He quickly unrolled the paper and slammed it in front of Pansy.

The paper infront of them showed a blown up photo of a darkly cloaked figure, with the headline reading ‘Arrest of “Dark Lord”’

"Ha! Pay up Parkinson."

Pansy scowled and fished two sickles from her pocket while Blaise angled the paper towards himself.

"Merlin... That makes what? Five so far?" Blaise turned toward Pansy.

She nodded, quickly scanning the front page. When she'd finished, she pointed at the last line and said, "Read this Dray."

Immediately, all three boys leaned in to see.

As soon as Draco read it, his heart dropped.

"Would they actually do that? Would they really do a retrial?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed together.

Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "Of course not. It says only a small percentage of people are even considering it."

Pansy looked like she wanted to argue, but thought better of it and took a sip of tea.

"We'll be fine," Blaise assured, trying for a comforting smile.

It didn't work.

Draco was sure Blaise would survive this. He'd never truly picked a side in the war, his mother managed to find the perfect middle ground instead.

But the rest of them? Well, they had to hope the small percent wasn't of any importance, because if it was, they were doomed.

Theo shoved the paper into his bag, saying something about sending it to his mother. When nobody objected, he quietly added, "let's try to lay low today, yeah?"

________________________________

When Harry walked into the potions classroom, everybody fell silent.

All eyes seemed to be on him, burning into his skin and branding it with their judgement as he uncomfortably made his way to Professor Slugghorn's desk.

"Er- good morning Professor, sorry I'm late," he mumbled, fumbling with the sleeve of his robes.

"Harry, my boy! It's no problem at all! Good to see you're feeling better. Why don't you take a seat between-" he looked down as a piece of parchment and tapped it with his quill- "Miss. Granger and Mr. Nott?"

Harry nodded and turned around, taking a moment to scan the desks.

Near the back of the room, Hermione sat in front of Ron and Neville. She smiled kindly back at him. In the desk to the right, Theodore Nott sat smirking. His eyes flickered eagerly between Harry and Draco, who sat in front of him.

Groaning internally, Harry reluctantly made his way to the back of the room, curious eyes followed his every step. he sat down, and slowly the class returned it's attention to the Professor. An occasionally glance drifted back to Harry.

Hermione, seemingly pleased with Harry's emergence from his dorm, began to eagerly explain the potion they were supposed to be brewing. Harry tried to listen, but in the end caught very little, as his attention had quickly been directed elsewhere.

To his left, Theodore huddled closely with Malfoy and the rest of his gang. Pansy pulled something from her bag, tucked her straight black hair behind her ear,and began to speak in a low voice that seemed to drip with urgency.

No matter how much Harry tried, he couldn't seem to hear her over the noise of his fellow classmates. He watched as Pansy motioned to a paper before accidentally catching his gaze.

Her dark eyes stared into his, a smirk spread across her face. Something about her expression made him feel hopelessly transparent and forced him to advert his eyes.

She carefully folded the paper, muttering something to the others before whipping  
around and going back to work on her potion.

After class, before Harry had the opportunity to mention it, Ron and Hermione had already begun to discuss the topic.

"Don't be daft Ron, it's highly unlikely that they're up to anything."

"I'm just saying, The Prophet and now this? There's definitely some sort of connection."

"Well, I'm not denying that but-"

"What was in The Prophet?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione sighed and climbed through the portrait hole of Gryffindor tower before sitting down and pulling the paper out of her bag.

Harry quickly scanned the front page and handed it back. The words swimming through his head in a haze he was barely able to make out. Sure, he didn’t catch all the details, but the main idea rang loud and clear through his head. Somebody had made yet another failed attempt to carry on Voldemort’s work. "I think Ron's right."

Hermione furrowed her brow, frowning slightly, "Oh, not this again, Harry!"

"What?"

"You've already wasted years following Malfoy around and blaming him every time you sneezed. Why waste another?"

He shook his head, "But I was right in the end, wasn't I? Besides, I saw Parkinson with a paper while they were all huddled. I'm willing to bet it was a Prophet."

"Perhaps, but that's hardly evidence. You can't just go around accusing every Slytherin you see."

"These aren't just Slytherins 'Mione. You know exactly who they are."

She frowned slightly and said, "No actually, I don't think that we do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asked Ron.

She sighed, stood up, and straightened her robes. "Nothing at all," she said as she flung her bag over her shoulder, "I'll see you two later, I've got a paper to work on."

After Hermione left, neither boy spoke.

~~~

The day continued on and Harry couldn't shake the idea that Malfoy was planning something dangerous. At first, his habitual obsession with the boy had been purely precautionary. It became alarming when Ron had a full conversation with Harry that the latter failed to remember- partially due to sleep deprivation, and partially due to the fact that his eyes had been carefully following Malfoy from across the room. 

The blond boy seemed frighteningly unfamiliar to Harry. He was paler than usual, and his grey eyes had lost their malicious glint, looking tired and strained instead. His hair, normally slicked neatly back, sat like a pale puff on his head and fell messily in his face. There was something else too, something Harry almost missed.

Malfoy had always moved in such a graceful manner. He still did, but now, of a different sort. It seemed almost forced to Harry, who watched him still. His movements were long and elegant, but everytime his friends would divert their attention, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes found the ground.

It was this that frightened Harry the most.

He had learned in sixth year just how much it took to break Malfoy. If they boy was falling apart now, he was surely up to something, and something big.

Other people besides Ron had begun to notice Harry's obsession as well. One night, Ginny had made an off handed comment on how apparently distant Harry was. He couldn't quite remember how he'd responded, but whatever he said must've been wrong, because she'd snapped at him and stormed up to her dorm.

Harry knew she wasn't wrong. He had been rather distant, but that issue had begun months ago. Maybe she was just noticing? Or maybe she was just glad to have something blame.

It made sense, Harry thought, he'd lose his patience as well had it been the other way around. Still, it wasn't as if he could do anything to change it. He couldn't undo the war.

As the days progressed, more and more people learned of the mock dark lord. They resubscribed to The Prophet and whispers began. Suddenly, Harry wasn't the only one keeping an obsessively close eye on anybody in green. It was so bad in fact, that in history of magic, Theodore Nott sneezed, and Harry could've sworn at least five different people flinched.

After class, he began walking to the great hall, Hermione chattering happily in his ear.

"The Muggles see them as this great loss, but honestly, very few people were actually lost in the witch trials."

He nodded disinterestedly, watching as the Slytherins ahead of them took another detour.

"I mean really," Hermione continued, "everytime they found a true witch or wizard, they got away easily."

Harry nodded again, turning his head to watch as Malfoy and the others walked down the hall. They moved in a strange way, as if they were trying to avoid drawing any extra attention, which was ironically what caught Harry's attention the most.

He stopped walking and turned to Hermione, who was several paces ahead of him, and said, "You keep going, I'll meet you and Ron in a couple of minutes."

Hermione gave him a suspicious look, "What are you up to now, Harry?"

"Nothing 'Mione, I promise," he said, trying his best at a comforting smile, "I just need to go back and ask Professor Flitwick a couple of things. I won't be long."

She looked hesitant but gave a small nod and carried onward, leaving Harry alone.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to Malfoy. He had to walk far behind, trying his best not to make a sound that would give him up. Every now and then his shoe would squeak on the castle floor, causing him to freeze in terror. Luckily, Malfoy never seemed to hear it, or at least never gave any indication he had.

Harry had just figured out that the group of Slytherins were only walking down the their common room when an irritated voice rang out.

"Would you just shut up Zabini!" Snapped Theodore, halting his steps and turning to Blaise.

Harry stopped walking and moved to the side of the hall.

"He's just trying to be helpful, Theo," Pansy defended.

Malfoy shook his head, grabbing the sleeve of Theodore's robe and saying something to the others which proved too quiet to hear.

Blaise nodded before continuing onwards with Pansy, while Draco pulled Nott down the hall and closer to Harry.

Harry quickly hid behind one of the old suits of armor in the hall, pressing his body as flat against the cold metal as possible.

The footsteps stopped nearby. There was a pause while the other footsteps which Harry assumed were Blaise and Pansy faded away completely.

"The next time he says 'we', I am going to fucking hex him," snapped Nott.

"That won't help anything."

"It'll help make me feel better."

Malfoy let out a small laugh that echoed ominously throughout the tiny corridor, and then said, "If it truly does come down to Azkaban, I'd like to think that-"

Harry took a small step forward, his bag banging against the suit of armor.

It was a muffled sound, but enough to bring the conversation to a screeching halt. There was a moments pause, and then a clear voice rang out, "Bombarda."

________________________________

The suit combusted, pieces scattering across the hall and hitting against the walls. A few smaller pieces ricocheted back, hitting Draco and Theo in their faces. 

Behind the crumbled armor stood a boy. His frail build looked almost pathetic when compared to the steel that stood there before. Draco supposed that the boy had always been rather thin, but this was a new level entirely.

His light skin stretched thinly over his bones, causing the dark circles rimming his eyes to stand out vividly. Somehow, Draco couldn't help but think that he resembled an inferni more so than anything alive. If it wasn't for the scar, glasses, and painfully obnoxious Gryffindor scarf he wore, most people likely wouldn't recognize the boy.

Still, as always, Harry was quick.

Before Draco could even comprehend what was happening, his wand flew from his hand, rolling near a now binded Theo. 

"Well done, Potter," he sneered, taking a step forward. He recognized the same unnecessary hostility in his voice, but somehow couldn't bring himself to dial it down.

A spell flew at him and Draco blocked it with a wave of his hand. He took another step forward and it happened again.

"Merlin's beard, all that time spent running for your life, you'd think you'd know how to aim a simple spell."

Another spell shot forward and this time Draco could hardly block it. Things continued on this way until Draco was able to dive for his wand and start shooting back. Even then, the boys found themselves quite evenly matched, and tiring quickly.

Soon, Draco felt completely exhausted. He lowered his wand and was met with a strange look from Harry.

A moment of silence passed before Harry too lowered his wand with a sigh and said, "Ron was right."

Draco hesitated, and then, covering his curiosity with contempt snapped, "What was the weasel right about? That you can't cast a proper spell to save your life?"

"That I shouldn't waste my time on Death Eaters," replied Harry cooly.

Quickly, Draco's exhaustion disappeared.

In the blink of an eye, he had abandoned his wand and pinned Harry against the walls by his shoulders.

"Never, and I mean never call me that again!" he yelled, the tips of his fingers digging so roughly into Harry's shoulders that they turned white. "Or I swear, I'll utilize spells so powerful, they'd put Merlin himself to shame!"

Harry didn't respond. Instead he stared defiantly up at Draco. Something about the sad, tired look in his green eyes only fueled Draco's anger.

He slammed Harry into the wall again, wincing slightly at the hollow sound the other boy's skull made against the stone wall. "Do you hear me, Potter?" he snarled, "or does nothing ever penetrate that dense head of yours?"

________________________________

Harry stared up at Malfoy, fighting hard to ignore the burning pain spreading across the back of his head. Draco's fingers were dug so harshly into his shoulders, that he'd be surprised if it wasn't already bruising.

"Are you deaf Potter? Didn't Mummy teach you it's rude to ignore somebody?"

Harry wondered if Draco could hear how much his own voice quavered. Maybe he did, and hoped Harry couldn't.

He stared up at the blond boy with his clenched jaw and wide grey eyes. A sort of burning fire swelt within Harry, stronger than any physical pain he was experiencing. It burned fiercely and, without thinking, Harry acted.

________________________________

Draco looked down at the broken boy in front of him, his anger growing with every silent moment that passed. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting. An apology? A snappy remark? Neither happened. Instead, before Draco could comprehend the situation, there was a sudden pressure on his face. It came again and again, each time less tentative than the last.

It wasn't until he was on his knees, vision blurred and blood dripping through his parted lips into his mouth, that he finally understood what had taken place.

He thought that maybe Harry had only just realized himself. Draco believed this because through his blurred vision, the rough outline of the boy picked up its wand and took a few tentative steps backwards. He turned on his heels and began to sprint away.

Harry must've freed Theo as well, because somewhere past the pain, Draco was vaguely aware of a pair of hands bracing his shoulders. His ears were ringing, blocking out the sound of Theo's muffled words and the echoing of Harry's quick steps.

But as Draco watched Harry Potter retreat, he couldn't help but think that maybe the Gryffindor was even more broken on the inside than he appeared on the surface.


End file.
